


Moth to a Flame

by scully1138



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-15 07:52:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1297177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scully1138/pseuds/scully1138
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"'You're no traitor. You just look like a man who's trapped.' As he watched from afar, something in the man's voice made Finch wonder if John Reese was speaking about himself as well."</p>
<p>This is what I think was going through Harold's mind during a pivotal scene in RAM. Spoilers for episode 3.16.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moth to a Flame

**Author's Note:**

> A multitude of thanks go out to Wuchel. Once again your support and encouragement made all the difference...

.

 _“You’re no traitor. You just look like a man who’s trapped.”_

As he watched from afar, something in the man’s voice made Finch wonder if John Reese was speaking about himself as well. 

.

He had first become aware of the formidable operative with the terrifying skill set when the Machine began repeatedly giving him Jessica Arndt’s number - an increasingly dire situation for which he had yet to find a solution. 

He’d explored Reese as a threat initially, but Harold had discarded that possibility almost at once. The man was certainly an efficient killer, but there was absolutely nothing to indicate that he used his intimidating abilities outside of the assignments he was tasked with by his superiors at the CIA. Ultimately he had concluded that the operative was merely one more soulless instrument of death in the Agency’s ever-expanding arsenal. 

But with his striking looks and ice-cold demeanor John Reese was also a man not easily forgotten, and Finch had recognized him instantly when he’d received the image from Dillinger. 

He grimaced at the thought of his arrogant, faithless - and now former - employee. He had made a troubling number of concessions when he hired the mercenary, and he’d suffered with those compromises during every case. Mr. Dillinger dropped bodies with a disturbing nonchalance, and the man’s inappropriate behavior and poor attitude had become more repellant to Harold with each passing day. But he had endured his employee’s deficiencies as a necessary trade-off in exchange for the opportunity to save so many innocent lives. 

Nathan had paid the ultimate price for knowing about the Machine. That it had required his friend’s death in order for him to recognize the righteousness of saving the irrelevant numbers was appalling to Harold, and he was deeply ashamed of his initial callousness towards them. He’d been driven by remorse and regret to put his own plan for saving the numbers into action as soon as possible, and his exhaustive search for an assistant had begun almost immediately after Nathan’s demise. 

Mr. Dillinger had been a flawed candidate from the outset, but he had the necessary skills and he was willing to begin at once. And while his new associate was both ethically challenged and excruciatingly poor company at least Harold hadn’t been going it alone anymore. 

He had never expected a paid mercenary to embrace their endeavors with his own fervor - that burden was his alone to bear. But he paid the opportunistic man extravagantly for his work and the risk that it entailed, and Finch had hoped that the lavish monetary compensation would be enough to secure Mr. Dillinger’s continued efforts, if not his enthusiasm. 

He certainly hadn’t anticipated being drugged and betrayed by his employee - although the sad truth was that he wasn’t really surprised either. The depth of corruption and amorality in his own government had been a devastating revelation, and that disappointment was now as constant in his life as the new and unending pain in his back and neck. 

But even as he’d struggled to shake off the lingering effects of the sedative, and summoned every bit of his strength and willpower to take those first agonizing steps, Harold already knew that he would never abandon his commitment to Nathan’s final cause. He would begin again with someone new and try to learn from his mistakes. Starting over was a daunting and frightening prospect, but he was more determined than ever to fight for the people on the irrelevant list. They were all he had left, and he needed to see this through - for the sake of all the innocent victims and for those he had left behind. 

He had given up Grace in order to save her, but his fiancé had paid a cruel price for loving him and he hoped that through his work her pain would not be meaningless - at least that’s what he told himself. And he owed this much to Nathan, his courageous, honorable friend who’d understood so much sooner than he had that “everyone is relevant to somebody.” 

Memories of Nathan rushed in to fill the chasm that had opened in his heart with his friend’s death, bringing with them a fresh onslaught of guilt and loss. Despite their differences they had complemented each other perfectly and worked together as a harmonious team, bound by a trust which had grown from their shared beliefs and decency. 

Lives had been saved with Mr. Dillinger but his cavalier attitude made a difficult job even more stressful - every disrespectful “Finchy” or “Finchinator” was its own little wound - and after months of working with the indifferent mercenary Harold had come to realize just how much he craved having a real partner again. He missed the warm companionship and unspoken regard he had shared with Nathan, along with the comfort of having a friend in whom he could confide and trust - someone who truly appreciated the critical importance of his crusade. It was more than he had any right to expect, but he longed for it nevertheless. 

.

Now he stared in disbelief as the man he had assumed to be a hardened, unfeeling killer spared the life of the CIA’s most-wanted target. John Reese had quietly done the right thing simply because it was _right,_ and he had done so at great peril to himself. 

_“You’re no traitor. You just look like a man who’s trapped.”_

The words resonated profoundly with Finch. He’d believed that he was doing his country a great service by creating the Machine, but his most extraordinary achievement had become the justification for taking lives instead of saving them. His body was so damaged that even walking was an ordeal, and he’d been forced to hide himself away from the world - mired in the consequences of trusting his creation to the wrong people. 

Did those same words apply to Reese? His actions tonight would certainly label him a traitor in the eyes of the CIA, and he had revealed a need to protect that was more powerful than the deeply-ingrained training to obey orders without question. 

It made no sense but somehow Harold sensed a kindred spirit in this man, and the unexpected thought stirred something so deep that it brought tears to his eyes. 

As he considered the risk that the operative had just taken, it struck him that John Reese might possibly be the most honorable man he had ever encountered. When he searched the agent’s haunted face he saw his own disillusionment reflected there, and Finch knew that he understood this man’s story with absolute clarity. Reese was a good man - probably an exceptional one - who had sacrificed everything in order to serve his country with integrity. And he’d almost certainly been coerced by those whom he’d trusted the most into doing a job that was slowly destroying him. 

Harold felt himself being drawn to this surprising man like a solitary moth to the proverbial flame, and he fought against the irrational notion that John Reese might be the true partner he’d been yearning for - that singular person who would willingly share his heavy burden and small triumphs, who would somehow see the value of his quest and take it on as his own. 

His lonely heart pounded impetuously at the possibility, but he forced his mind back to something resembling reality as he watched Reese calmly extract the unfortunate “proof of death” from Daniel Casey’s mouth. Their lives were on inexorably different trajectories, and he was deluding himself with the idea that the worldly operative would ever consider such a foolhardy cause as the irrelevant numbers. 

He allowed himself a small sigh as John Reese disappeared into the night. It was time to find Mr. Dillinger. The foolish man was in over his head, and Harold had a very bad feeling. 

.

FIN

.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. Your comments and kudos are always greatly appreciated!


End file.
